


Stupid Manager

by elenniel



Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 19:23:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15870132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenniel/pseuds/elenniel
Summary: In the infirmary, Mamori frets and talks to Hiruma. (Based on events during the game against the Hakushuu Dinosaurs.)





	Stupid Manager

**Author's Note:**

> Written using the events of Chapters 258-265 as the base. The dialogue doesn't follow the manga exactly, but I wanted to take some liberties for story purposes.  
> I've been re-reading the second half of the Eyeshield 21 series and all my HiruMamo feels came back. I know the general Eyeshield21 fandom is probably all but gone, given how long it's been since the manga ended but I couldn't help myself!

When Hiruma fell at the hand of Gaou, the Devil Bats’ hearts came to a screeching halt. Kurita cried out in anguish. The others froze in speechless horror. And Mamori? If it hadn’t been for Suzuna – who’d clung to her in tears – she would have found it much harder to resist running onto the field instantly.

It was a nightmare. A nightmare hardly alleviated by the momentary comedy of Hiruma sticking a leg out from the stretcher to boot Kurita in the backside.

Mamori looked at Hiruma, prone on the bed with a towel over his eyes. The team was probably having a serious discussion out on the field. What would they do?

She took out a torn-and-mended envelope from her pocket. His backup plan. He’d handed it to her, and she’d torn it up in a show of confidence (or so she had intended). But later she had found the envelope – pieced together with tape – in her bag. So much for her hope that it wouldn’t come to this.

Mamori had no idea what was really happening up there, but Hiruma seemed to have it all thought out – almost as though he could see the future: Ishimaru would be the logical choice by process of elimination, but Musashi would see it as his responsibility to step up to face the threat of Gaou, _but_ … if _Sena_ says he’ll do it, then make him the second quarterback. The shrimp could do it. The shrimp is the only one on the team who could possibly dodge an attack from Gaou.

She knew Hiruma was right. Sena was the only one they had capable of escaping from Gaou. Yet, it was so dangerous… Seibu’s Kid hadn’t managed to avoid injury from Gaou. Hiruma himself had fallen victim to him. Sena would volunteer. She knew he would. He was that kind of kid. Involuntarily, Mamori began to cry.

“I didn’t say anything to Sena,” she said. “But it’ll be okay like this, won’t it, Hiruma-kun?”

A slow grin spread over Hiruma’s face. “Stop crying, stupid manager.”

Mamori made a face at him even though he couldn’t see her and wiped away a tear. More came. She didn’t bother to wipe those away. “Shut up,” she mumbled.

Silence fell between them even as the distant sounds of the game filtered into the room.

“Shouldn’t you be up there, stupid manager?” said Hiruma at last.

“Doburoku-sensei is there. They don’t need me right now…” _But you do_ , was her unspoken ending to that sentence.

 _Did_ he, though? Yes, he had a fractured arm, and he was probably still in a bit of shock from the trauma of the blow from Gaou. But Hiruma Yoichi was not the type that needed or liked coddling. Mamori bit her lip. He had a point. What was she thinking? He didn’t need her there. Probably didn’t want her there either. Perhaps that was the point.

It was surprising how much the thought that he didn’t want or need her there hurt.

She sighed. “You’re right. I should get back up there.”

Just as she pushed back her chair to stand, he said, “I didn’t tell you to go back.”

“Huh?”

“I merely asked if you should be up there. I didn’t say go back there, stupid manager.”

“Oh…”

Hiruma fidgeted, shifting his head from side to side a little. “Pull this effin’ towel a bit higher up. It’s hard to breathe when it’s covering my nose.”

She did as he asked, and resumed her seat, wondering if it was all right to feel a little happier now.

Funny how things could change. She had not liked Hiruma Yoichi. Everyone at school knew he could be borderline (if not full-on) demonic with that dangerous black book of his and the guns he toted around without a care. When he’d dragged Sena into the American football club, her dislike had grown. But once she realized that Sena was coming into his own on the team – was becoming the team’s ace player, in fact – she was forced to admit to herself that it hadn’t turned out so badly after all. And working with Hiruma showed her that he wasn’t just the demon king he made himself out to be. Everything he did had a purpose; he just hid it behind a mask of threats and guns.

A thought occurred to her. She looked sharply at the prone Hiruma. “You didn’t get injured on purpose, did you? This isn’t some ridiculous scheme of yours to make the team improve?”

“I thought you were smarter than that, stupid manager.”

“Will you stop calling me that?”

“No. To all your questions. What sort of bombastic idiot _plans_ to get a broken arm during a game? You’re a useful manager – don’t start acting like Skates or Monkey now. I want to rest.”

So she let him rest in silence, until the clock on the wall indicated that the first half would be ending soon. She remarked on it for no other reason than to fill the silence. To her surprise and dismay, Hiruma shook the blanket and towel off and started to rise.

“Hiruma-kun! What are you doing?”

“Sitting up. Give me a hand.”

“You really shouldn’t,” she protested, while supporting his efforts to sit up.

“But I’m going to,” he said. “I’m done resting. Bandage this arm. And the other one too.”

Mamori opened her mouth to argue. He interrupted her, saying, “If you don’t, I’ll do it myself. And you know it won’t be half as secure that way.”

He smirked at her knowingly. Mamori huffed and reluctantly began the task of wrapping his arms in tight bandages.

As she cut off the excess material and secured the last one, she felt compelled to voice her objections again. “Hiruma-kun, there’s no way you can resume playing with your arm like this!”

“Third question.”

She stopped short. “Third?” She didn’t recall any other questions.

“In the NFL, sometimes” – a cunning look came into his eyes – “there are idiots who keep on playing through injuries such as broken bones. True or false?”

Mamori sensed a trap. “If I say it’s true, you’ll just resume the match. So… I say false.”

“Wrong,” said Hiruma instantly. He rose from the bed. “I win. As promised, you’ll do just as I say.”

She stared at him. What was he talking about? He won?

And then… A memory surfaced. Answer three questions, get one wrong and she would have to obey his word as team captain. Hiruma had abruptly ended it after two questions.

She’d forgotten all about it. Trust Hiruma to have meant to drop the third question back then and bring it up now – a trump card of sorts to force her cooperation.

“You’re an idiot,” she said.

“Just keep your promise.”

He made her put a second round of bandages and tape on both arms. Then she helped him get his football gear on. Last, she handed him his helmet but he shook his head.

“I need to make an entrance first.”

Mamori rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.”

“Dramatic flair never hurts in psychological warfare.” He grinned in a devilish manner that never boded well for his opponents. But this time, Mamori worried that it might not bode well for Hiruma himself.

Hiruma started towards the door. Mamori followed, carrying his helmet and a heavy heart. She couldn’t dissuade him from returning to the game; she saw it in his face and heard it in his voice. Hiruma wasn’t to be moved from his decision.

He stopped abruptly and she nearly walked into him, managing to stop just behind him.

“What is it?” she asked.

He gestured with his left hand for her to stand beside him. Puzzled, Mamori did so. She gave him a questioning look. He glanced at her, then threw his left arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug with the one arm, allowing his chin to rest for a second on her head.

Mamori thought she heard a mumbled “thanks” right before he released her from the hug. It was over so quickly that she half wondered if it had just been her imagination.

But Hiruma kept his left arm draped over her shoulders and said, “Help me down the corridor.”

She shifted the helmet from her right hand to her left and slipped her free arm under his and around his back to hold him up. It was clear to her that all that was keeping him upright was his strength of will.

“I’ll need help with the helmet too – later,” added Hiruma.

Mamori nodded. Right now, he needed her. She realized too that although he’d said no, he hadn’t used the name “stupid manager” since she asked him to stop calling her that. No doubt he would resume it when he felt like it, but despite the gravity of the current situation, she let herself smile a little.

 


End file.
